


run away from it.

by essens



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essens/pseuds/essens
Summary: it’s absurdly easy to picture izaya taking care of someone. talking to them, asking all the right questions. being a constant, grounding presence. because... that’s what he did with him, right?
Relationships: Kida Masaomi/Orihara Izaya
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	run away from it.

**Author's Note:**

> random glimpses of what i think of their relationship.

**i.**

‘what was your past like?’ — masaomi asks, cautiously. asking this is like treading on thin ice, but for some reason it doesn’t stop him, not now. light flickers though the window. it's early evening, but the sun is still too bright. masaomi closes his eyes, and there are warm circles behind his eyelids, like kaleidoscope.

‘are you looking for something that made me into myself, masaomi-kun?’ — izaya asks, amused. he ruffles masaomi’s hair. masaomi scowls in response.

‘well, nothing like what you’re probably thinking. my parents were pretty normal,’ — izaya says, and stops.

masaomi pulls himself up on his elbows, makes sure that izaya sees his sour expression, because he is tired of those ambiguous answers and he wants to hear something — _anything_ — real. something personal, what would make him more human.

‘i have two younger sisters’, — izaya supplies, voice even.

‘what?’ — masaomi stares, dumbfounded. he doesn’t even know why he is so shocked, but it was about the last thing he expected.

‘yes. i’ve looked after them since i was 12.’

the room is silent, apart from the city noise coming through an open window. the pieces fit together. now that masaomi thinks about it, it’s absurdly easy to picture izaya taking care of someone. talking to them, asking all the right questions. being a constant, grounding presence. because... that’s what he did with him, right? as much as masaomi wants to distance himself from izaya, he doesn’t think he can, not at this point. he doesn't want it to be true, but talking to izaya calms him like nothing else. masaomi doesn't even need to touch him or see him, it's enough to know that he's there. he feels connected to this place, as well. he keeps coming back to izaya's apartment like it's the only place where he can breathe. where he feels safe.

masaomi wants to ask more, but the change in izaya’s expression tells him there’s no point. he won’t get any more answers.

he thinks about it. wonders what their relationship with izaya is like. how close were they back then? are they still in contact with each other? do they also live in tokyo? he’s never seen them, but then again, he’s never seen anyone close to izaya besides shinra, so he has just assumed izaya had no family or they weren’t a part of his life anymore.

he doesn’t know why he cares so much, but he can’t stop thinking about it.

it’s like their relationship exists in a vacuum. and he’s fine with it, he really is. masaomi doesn’t want to drag his past or his parents into it and izaya never asks him for which he is grateful. it’s only fair that he doesn’t ask izaya for answers in return, but he wants to know.

is shinra the only person who he considers a friend? why him? masaomi doesn’t know much about the guy apart from his profession. what about his previous romantic partners? serious relationships? what does what _they_ are doing mean to izaya in comparison?

masaomi doesn’t know if he’d feel better or worse if he knew the answers.

**before**

his life has changed drastically after moving to tokyo. his best friend is not here. his mother’s illness is beginning to take a toll on him, exhausts him more than he thought was possible. masaomi worries about her. wants to help, but there’s nothing he can do. on the day of her surgery his father beats him senseless. he skipped school, couldn’t force himself to go, and that — that was a mistake. his father’s violent outbursts scare him so much he locks himself in the bathroom afterwards and cries until he can’t anymore.

he visits his mother in the hospital the next day. the doctors can't tell if she’ll get better. he doesn’t cry, and because of that all he hears from her is angry, dismissive: ‘you don’t care. just go away and do as you like.’ she always assumes his thoughts, explains his actions in a way that couldn’t be further from reality and no matter how hard he tries it still isn’t enough, isn’t _right_.

yellow scarves come as a welcome distraction from it all until he realizes that he doesn’t have friends among them. they follow him, but they don’t treat him as their friend. as their equal. they put him on a pedestal, and he doesn't have the right to be weak or indecisive. he doesn’t have anywhere to turn to, and gradually izaya becomes the only person he can really talk with.

his distrust washes away so easily. partly it’s because the information is never wrong, and thanks to it yellow scarves are doing better than ever, but it’s not all. he gets used to gentleness and control and _certainty_ in izaya's voice and movements whenever the informant greets him. it's nice to be on the receiving end on it. izaya’s questions are never empty, just for the sake of it, and when masaomi talks, he listens without interruption. there's no expectation in his gaze, and it makes masaomi feel free. 

**ii.**

‘yes, yes, i slept with her,’ — izaya says, sounding bored. he gets up from the couch. — ‘you needed a confirmation, so here it is. stop thinking about it.’

masaomi stills.

it’s not like they’re exclusive. they’ve never even talked about their relationship properly. there are no established boundaries. there's no reason to feel so betrayed.

‘why?’ — masaomi tries to subdue his anger and hurt but to no avail. even to his own ears he sounds pathetic.

‘i wanted to know what i would feel. and i didn’t feel anything,’ — izaya smiles, as if he finds it satisfying. — ‘it was... uninspiring.’

masaomi nods. he stays quiet. he purposely looks at the shelves. izaya takes a step forward so he is in front of masaomi and traces the side of his neck with his fingers. masaomi wants to shove him away, but he can’t force himself to do so. he stands still.

‘are you angry with me?’ — izaya asks.

the tone of his voice is drained from any emotion. it means nothing. though, knowing him, masaomi would say that there’s more curiosity in his voice than worry. and there’s no guilt.

masaomi sighs, digging his nails into his palms sharply. he doesn’t have the right to be angry — not at this rate. not at izaya. he hates that he expected _something_ , expected to be special when he knew perfectly well what this was. he feels nauseous. why did masaomi need to rely on him? why did izaya matter so much? he’s so fucking naive. he shouldn’t… even if izaya was capable of love, would it be him?

‘no’, — he says, cold, defensive.

‘you know you aren’t not a good liar, masaomi?’ — izaya asks rhetorically.

the silence stretches long enough for masaomi shake his head and step back a little. he doesn’t look at izaya. what izaya says next, however, freezes him to the spot:

‘do you want us to be exclusive?’

he takes masaomi’s hand, places it just above his heart and looks him in the eye. it’s impossible to look away now. izaya’s gaze is blank on the surface, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that makes a shudder run down masaomi’s spine. even though he is used to it by now, it doesn’t make this any better. masaomi feels like he can’t mask anything. izaya will still see through.

‘i...’ — masaomi pauses. he doesn’t know how to phrase it. the least thing he wants to do is say it as it is. izaya's heartbeat is measured, perfectly steady underneath his palm. — ‘i just want to know that this means for you. why are you always like this!’ — he snaps a little at the end, taking his hand away. 

( _do you truly care about me?_ — he doesn’t say, but it’s there, desperate, weak. he hates himself for needing that confirmation).

izaya doesn’t answer immediately. fuck, why did he have to ask? why, why, why...

‘i want you to stay,’ — comes as an interruption to his rushing thoughts.

izaya moves closer, fingers at his nape, and whispers into his hair:

‘i want you to be mine.’

god, what kind of answer is that? it doesn’t explain their standing. izaya doesn’t say he loves him, even _likes_ him. what he says doesn’t have the implications of an equal relationship.

masaomi finds himself smiling in relief. it happens unconsciously, before he has the time to think better of it. what does it say about him if he just accepts it like that?

**iii.**

he comes, and all he can hear is static and his own accelerated heartbeat.

‘are you warmer now?’ — izaya asks, and it takes masaomi’s mind a moment to catch up. his thoughts are slippery, and he can’t connect the meaning to the words right away.

izaya touches his hair lightly and pushes the bangs away from his forehead. he looks at masaomi attentively.

‘yes,’ — masaomi says, swallowing his anxiety. after a momentary hesitation he adds: — ‘i love you, you know,’ — he looks away.

_it doesn’t matter if you don’t. i just have to say it._

‘i love you too, masaomi’.

the response comes so quickly it’s unnatural. before, masaomi thought hearing those words would change everything. but now that they are out there he realizes there's no difference because it's so obvious izaya doesn’t mean it the same way he does.

he tells himself he is content with it, but in reality it just scares him. he can’t be alone and he is so strongly, irrevocably dependent over a person he doesn’t even understand. it feels like he’s merely scratching the surface and all his attempts to get to know izaya — truly know him — are nothing. being close to him is like coming to the edge of an abyss and waiting there until it swallows you. he can’t let go all the same, because this — this is far better than emptiness.


End file.
